More Than Lucky
by Miss Ace Thank You
Summary: Jazmine takes time to remember somebody very special to her. The story of Huey and Jazmine. Oneshot.


"_They __ignore__ each other __and__ look away but deep down,  
>they both know that it wasn't supposed to <em>_end __this way." – Anonymous_

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><p>"So Jazmine," He'd asked me so long ago. I was about ten years old, and now, I am ten again. I sit with my legs folded Indian style in the high grass, not worried about anything as he sits near me. His wine eyes are searching the world in front of him. And me? I'm crying, as usual, "What do you want to do?"<p>

"I don't know," I shrugged in a small voice as I wiped my eyes and touched the afro that I had revolted then. My face brightened up as I stood. My small yellow shirt blew around as a gust of wind blew past me, and I moved towards the boy and his scowl, "How about dolls?"

"Jazmine," He sighed as if impatient. Knowing him, he was probably at his last end of sanity, "I'm a boy, and boys don't like playing dolls. Pick another game."

"Oh," I simply said as I thought for a moment. Finally, my face lots its wrinkles of thought and brightened again as Huey winced, no doubt expecting some horrible game, "Gone with the wind."

"Jazmine!" He stomped his foot as I winced. The clouds overhead were white, fluffy, and as he began to rant all I could do was smile at the way the clouds and his afro seemed to be one and the same. Even then, I had a small crush on him, "We are not playing that stupid game. It's degrading to African Americans."

"Well, I'm only fifty percent-"

"And?" Huey ranted some more as he leaned against the bark of the tree, "You probably would have stayed in the house, and ended up as the master's little toy."

"Huh?" My eyes watered as he spoke the words that I definitely didn't want to hear. I didn't want to seem so weak to him, but he always made it hard. He never let me have it easy, especially then, "Wha- what?"

"Yeah," He nodded as he looked at the sky over my small body,"And he would have done really bad things to you, and Tom or your mommy wouldn't be able to do a damn thing about it."

Then, he'd walked off, leaving me alone to ponder what he said. And me, being the ten year old Jazmine that I was, broke down and cried.

At age twelve, I was doing a little bit better with my emotions. Well, I was better with the crying. My feelings for Huey had only intensified, and he had matured even more. Every time I matured a little, he would just make it seem insignificant, or at least, that's how I felt about it. We weren't at the hill. Instead, we were walking back from Cindy's thirteenth birthday party in the darkness. I was afraid, so I remember clinging to his arm in fear, jumping at each noise that I could hear. He had snorted, told me there was nothing to be afraid of and dragged me along.

I stopped when I claimed to see a deer and ran away from his arms and into a dark alley all alone. My hair had been straightened that day too. In the darkness of the alley, the only thing you could see was me , my shiny hair, and the paleness that was my skin. I did not see the men in it until it was too late. They dragged me away so quickly that I could barely scream.

"Hello, little girl," The man's breath was in my ear, making my squirm and attempt to get away, "Didn't your parents tell you to stay away from strangers?"

I was crying, praying for Huey to come and get me. He didn't. In my mind, I imagined that he left me and said good riddance. He shrugged releasing my mouth from the recesses of his hand and dragging me towards a man with a dagger. I gulped.

"Please," I shook my head slowly, "Don't do this to me. I'm a good girl."

"Do you," The man had on all black and shook his head, laughing at my words, "Do you think I care about how good you are?"

Then, he was on the ground, and the man with the dagger was too. They were beaten bloody senseless until I stopped him, not wanting him to kill them.

"They aren't worth it, Huey." I told him, reaching my hand out to stop him as the men who had attacked me trembled in fear.

"You don't even know what they wanted to do to you," He growled as he punched them again, "The damn sick bastards."

"Huey!" I was scared, "Just take me home, please."

He took one look at me and sighed, agreeing to the words quickly, without much of a fight.

"Fine," He told me.

He didn't let go of my hand until I opened the door to my bedroom.

At age thirteen, I had realized that the world really was a horrible place. With all the deaths and lies that I had heard of then, I guess it was simply only a matter of time before I discovered the truth. Nevertheless, Huey was still the one who had to listen to the problems that I always had.

"Tasha hates me!" I wailed to him as we sat on the tree. Even though I was aware that the world was horrible, it didn't mean that I could react to it like Huey did.

"So?" He offered me nothing but a snort and an eyebrow raise.

"She's the most popular girl in school," I sniffled a little, "She said that my hair reminded her of a big weird school bus and that it can't even have a color. And she said that my daddy is a b-word!"

"Well, she's just jealous," Huey rolled his eyes as he turned to look at me, "And your hair is fine the way it is."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better," I told him.

"No," He told me, "I'm not. If I tried to make you feel better, we would be here all night."

That shut me up rather quickly.

Two years later, we didn't hang out as much. I was already busy enough with cheerleading and gymnastics as it was. Plus, with all the new friends I was making, I had placed Huey on the backburner. He, on the other hand, was changing. He had just been told that he had leukemia by some sort of strange luck. I wasn't even there for him. I was out doing whatever when he needed me the most.

Not that he cared. He had convinced himself that the government had hired some official with a strand of the cancer and injected it into his blood stream. He was prepared to die. He always had been.

He never told me. And by the time he and I did see each other, he was told that it was no longer malignant. He and I hung outside all the time. As oblivious as I was to the matter, I barely noticed the fact that he didn't work out as much, or how he almost seemed to wince when we wrestled.

Looking back on it, I wish that I had.

The day I turned sixteen Huey Freeman was there. He was still the one I loved, but another boy, Kevin, was now a part of my affection too. I will never forget the look of pure disappointment that he gave me as I kissed Kevin in my room, shaking his own head in anger as I reached out to grab him.

Kevin had shrugged and walked out of the room saying that he could find another hoe to shack up with, leaving me with a puffy face and tears.

When I had walked outside, Huey was there. He was quiet, and I wasn't sure what to say or what to do. Even though my hair was straight and I wore a tight blue dress, I didn't feel confident as I stood in front of Huey. I felt like the frightened little girl that he had always known.

"Huey?" I called his name tentatively as I came towards him, letting my silver heels click, "Are you alright?"

"Am I alright?" His voice was so angry, cold, "Shouldn't I be asking you that? You're the one who let that guy grope you!"

"I'm sixteen," I told him, now livid, "I can take care of myself. I don't need you to worry about me!"

"Yes," He looked into my eyes, "I do!"

"I-" His eyes were throwing me off, "I don't. Why do you care, anyways?"

"Because," He shocked me as he pulled me into his arms, "I might like you."

And before I could object, his lips were on mine, kissing softly. And the only thing that I could do was melt on the inside, praying that he would never stop.

Of course, he did.

By the time we turned eighteen, we were still going strong. I was still cheerleading, and I had somehow grown into a stronger version of myself. Of course, I was still scary at times and compassionate, but somehow, Huey had managed to rub off on me.

"I love you."

Those are the words we told each other on Christmas Eve. Even though he had to be cold because I was wearing his black jacket, he had whispered the words back to me then kissed me. I barely even felt the snow on my face as we grinned at one another.

But as time went on, I noticed that he had bruises everywhere. I threw a fit. I almost killed somebody until Huey laughed me off, asking me who would dare beat him up. I even have to admit that it's quite comical to even think of Huey getting hurt by anybody.

He was always sick too. He sneezed a lot. He always had the cold, and I was always there to scold him for not taking his vitamins. He would always muster up the strength to say that he was a revolutionary; he didn't need vitamins.

He was right. He needed leukocytes.

But I still never noticed. By the end of our senior year, I was stressing and filling out applications. I was salutatorian, and Huey was valedictorian. He seemed sick every week, and I got worried. He told me that it was fine, and I believed him.

During the months of January, February, and March, Huey and I did everything together. We argued, we danced, we made out, and we loved each other.

"You're silly," He told me one day with a smirk as I slid down the slide with the objecting smaller kids, "But you're a beautiful, silly girl."

"Now, get off the slide, you big jerk!" One little girl announced angrily.

And then, in April, he was really weak. And by then, even I knew something was up. He told me that he had leukemia. I didn't cry, I didn't yell. I just gave him a huge hug and never let go. Only when I went home, did I cry myself to sleep.

"What's wrong with you?" I whispered as I looked at him, "You're always sick, bruised, or in pain. I can't pretend that nothing's wrong with you. I can handle the truth."

He took a deep breath, searching my eyes before nodding, "I have leukemia. It's not like it doesn't always come back. It's just that this time, they don't really expect me to pull through."

He must have seen my face fall then, "But I normally do when they say that, so don't worry."

I felt guilty for not knowing at first. Then, I was angry. But I realized that I had to cherish my time with Huey while I still had it. He and I still acted like a normal couple though. We argued, made out, and then, repeated the cycle. I had no doubt that he would make it to graduation.

He didn't.

My mom knocked on my door at three o'clock in the morning with the news. I cried. I cried so hard that I thought that I would never stop. I screamed his name the way I did when I was twelve, but he never came. I would never see Huey again.

His funeral was hard to attend. Riley cried, breaking down as he spoke of his brother, and even Granddad began to break down, hugging the grave. His Aunt Cookie sat still after handing me a letter he wrote me but managed to hold my hand. I cried on her shoulder the whole time, not even managing to crack a smile. It was even raining, just like he said it would when he died.

He had always been right, unfortunately.

I stood in the rain that day until Cindy and Riley stood by my side. We all cried at his grave site. But I want to say that I cried most of all.

Graduation was harder because I was valedictorian by default. I didn't want the title that Huey had rightfully earned, but I did do something that he might have liked were he still alive. I gave my speech like he would have. I used sarcasm, complained about the government, and pointed out the corruptions of evil, ending with snorts of "Have a nice life in the world of brokes, crooks, and addicts." I got a standing ovation- of tears.

Prom wasn't hard at all. I never went. I was too busy crying because Huey wasn't there.

I still hadn't opened the letter.

And now, two years later, I'm still crying as I think of the man he was, the man he could have been.

I stand there for a moment, thinking of our life together. I know that I would never take any of it back, especially the tears. They were worth it. They still are.

I hate that we didn't have longer, but I know and hope that he's better now.

I hold the letter in my hand. It is the same letter that his Aunt Cookie handed me two years ago that I wasn't ready to open. I rip it open, my eyes blurring as I see that same large handwriting that I love so much.

_Dear Jazmine,_

_I bet it's two years later that you decided to read this. I don't want you to be sad anymore. Of course, I'm not around. But even if the next guy is clearly not going to be as great as me (That's supposed to make you laugh.), you should be with him if he makes you happy. I know that you may be angry or hurt because I'm gone. But you should live your life, you're here for a reason._

_You are beautiful, Jazmine. And I'm sad that I can't be around to kiss you or beat the shit out of people who try to hurt you. I wish that I could be around to marry you. But dreaming was never my thing. Maybe until I met you._

_They say that love causes two people to change together. I guess that would explain a lot. I guess what I'm trying to say here is that my love for you will always exist, even when I'm gone. I know you'll do an amazing job in life. Well, as long as you don't revert back to those gullible ways, you'll be just fine._

_Jazmine, I just want you to be happy. Don't be afraid to love again. Don't feel guilty if you do. Trust me, I'll understand. And just know, that you should smile like you taught me how to do again. I swear if it weren't for you I wouldn't have even bothered to._

_So that's it. I'm always with you. Well, I think so anyways._

_Love,_

_Huey Freeman_

_P.S. Please stop crying. I'm pretty sure it's cold outside._

_P.P.S Tell Granddad to stop listening to Alicia's songs and eating bonbons too._

And that is enough for me to smile again, if only for a moment. And I clutch the letter in my small hand and walk away.

There are no words to describe him. Even now, when I'm sitting here in tears, I know that I am lucky, no blessed, to have known him. He is my everything. He will always be loved. And if I am ever fortunate enough to love again, I know it won't be the same. But I am more than lucky to have known Huey Freeman.

And even though he can't say it, I know that he feels the same way.

The wind rustles through my hair, and I look up at the fluffy clouds, realizing that my hair has somehow reverted to its natural form. I grin.

Maybe he can say it, in his own way.

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><p>And that's my oneshot…<p>

Don't cry. Don't kill me. Just review.


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